


Come Winter

by sunflowerbright



Series: Day by Drabble [45]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then one day, out of the blue, he asks her a question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Not-So-Bleak Midwinter prompt #15

_How like a winter hath my absence been  
F_ _rom thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!_  
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,   
What old December’s bareness everywhere!  
\--"Sonnet 97" by William Shakespeare

 

 

“Do you miss it?” he asked her once, out of the blue, while he was tinkering away with a bunch of arrows and she was mending one of her cloaks.

“Miss what?” she asked, eyes not rising from her work, intently focused.

“Home. The sand. The sun.”

Djaq raises her head sharply now, almost poking herself in the finger with the sharp needle. “What do you know about my home?”

“I’ve heard stories,” Will mumbles, suddenly shy, but there is nothing but curiosity in her eyes. “I’ve heard there’s hot, desert everywhere that the sun burns down on you like a raging fire, that all the colours are pale and light.” He stops himself then, thinking he’s said too much or maybe not enough, because her brows are scrunched together now, as if she’s deep in thought.

“I suppose…” she mumbles slowly. “When I first came to England, everything seemed… the colours were, not dull, but as if all with shades of grey. It was winter when I came here and everything looked…”

“Dead,” Will finishes for her, thinking of naked trees and skeletal bushes standing against a cold, hard ground. “Everything dies in winter.”

She looks down at her work again. “Everything dies under the sun as well. Given time.”

She hasn’t answered his question, and he suppose she doesn’t really have to. It is loaded and complicated and he knows the yearning of familiar as well as anyone. He doesn’t speak again, only sits and thinks that, this time around, come winter, everything might not look so dead after all.


End file.
